Madame M——­ F——­ did not take a ticket, but she allowed me to take tickets for her daughters, who were in high glee, since for ten or twelve guineas they got articles worth sixty.

Every day I was more taken with Sara; but feeling sure that I should only obtain slight favours from her, I thought it was time to come to an explanation.  So after supper I said that as it was not certain that Sara could become my wife I had determined not to accompany them to Berne.  The father told me I was very wise, and that I could still correspond with his daughter, Sara said nothing, but I could see she was much grieved.

I passed a dreadful night; such an experience was altogether new to me.  I weighed Sara’s reasons, and they seemed to me to be merely frivolous, which drove me to conclude that my caresses had displeased her.

For the last three days I found myself more than once alone with her; but I was studiously moderate, and she caressed me in a manner that would have made my bliss if I had not already obtained the one great favour.  It was at this time I learnt the truth of the maxim that if abstinence is sometimes the spur of love, it has also the contrary effect.  Sara had brought my feeling to a pitch of gentle friendship, while an infamous prostitute like the Charpillon, who knew how to renew hope and yet grant nothing, ended by inspiring me with contempt, and finally with hatred.

The family sailed for Ostend, and I accompanied them to the mouth of the Thames.  I gave Sara a letter for Madame de W——.  This was the name of the learned Hedvig whom she did not know.  They afterwards became sisters-in-law, as Sara married a brother of M. de W——­, and was happy with him.

Even now I am glad to hear tidings of my old friends and their doings, but the interest I take in such matters is not to be compared to my interest in some obscure story of ancient history.  For our contemporaries, the companions, of our youthful follies, we have a kind of contempt, somewhat similar to that which we entertain for ourselves.  Four years ago I wrote to Madame G——­ at Hamburg, and my letter began: 

“After a silence of twenty-one years . . .”

She did not deign to reply, and I was by no means displeased.  We cared no longer for one another, and it is quite natural that it should be so.

When I tell my reader who Madame G——­ is, he will be amused.  Two years ago I set out for Hamburg, but my good genius made me turn back to Dux; what had I to do at Hamburg?

After my guests were gone I went to the Italian Opera at Covent Garden, and met Goudar, who asked me if I would come to the Sartori’s concert.  He told me I should see a beautiful young English woman there who spoke Italian.  As I had just lost Sara I did not much care about making new acquaintances, but still I was curious to see the young marvel.  I indulged my curiosity, and I am glad to say that instead of being amused I was wearied, though the